Category Archives: Uncategorized

This is What a Toddler Bender Looks Like

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This is What a Toddler Bender Looks Like

Mostly because I read all the right books, my son is coping beautifully with the new baby. To fairly give credit where credit is due, it probably also has to do with my flawless discipline routine, my unique ability to share my energy evenly despite the birth of a new child, and my generous and patient heart that allows me to calmly and diplomatically convey my concerns and wishes to my children. What I mean is, it’s really bad.

After my daughter and husband leave, my son and I basically dive into the high stakes live video game that is now my life that involves protecting baby from death/injury while nursing/recovering, as well as cleaning up elaborate I’m-bored-plus-everything-in-my-life-sucks messes. Some of these games include: Don’t look I am Burying Tacks in a Place We Go Barefoot, Let’s Use $25 Face Cream as Glue to Stick 50 Cotton Pads to the Changing Table, Break a Bunch of Crayons for No Reason and Throw At Baby, and Toss Pins From Pin Cushion Around House in Random Locations Because That is How Much I Hate My Life. The nursing is done mostly with him crawling on my back or dodging objects he throws at us. Also, his head injury count, which was already at a healthy boy-child level, has tripled, because, why not? It makes the video game more challenging.

At one point, he had two goose eggs on his head, plus a wasp sting that made his face swell on one side, and a bloody toe that he refused to let me touch so he ran around leaving blood dot art around the whole house. At the same time, he also chose to wear his favorite Disney princess velvet dress and refused to take it off day or night for 4 days. During this time I had to limit his outdoor sidewalk time on account of our neighbors out walking their designer show dogs being judgy. Obviously he was doing fine! He just looked like a 3-year-old on the worst bender of his life! Everyone is over-reacting! EVERYTHING IS FINE!

We did have a breakthrough though. After my sister came to visit and gave him some vocabulary to describe his behavior, he found a small dead lizard outside and decided to name him Happy Choice. He wanted to try this parenting thing out and completely threw himself into taking care of Happy Choice. He made him a taped pillow and a blankie out of Kleenex and he took him everywhere, to the complete horror of strangers he introduced him to, but it was a real game changer for me. He did try to show the baby Happy Choice a few times by shoving it in her face, but he was really busy taking care of him for a least 3 days. And that meant it was kinda relaxing for a second in our house. So this is around the time when I learned having 3 kids is about giving up. On pretty much all the things you thought you would hold firm on and basically all your good parent fantasies. The real reason nobody has a lot of pictures of their 2nd or 3rd kids is because they were doing a bunch of shit they said “I would never…” for their first. And who wants a bunch of pictures of their kid eating Cheetos as their first food, riding a bike without a helmet, and napping with a tiny dead lizard on a Kleenex blankie? Then we could never pretend we didn’t mess up when our kids become parents.

 Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

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The Real Secret to Fitness is Blind Devotion to Someone You Hardly Know

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The Real Secret to Fitness is Blind Devotion to Someone You Hardly Know

The New Mexico gym scene is basically an SNL skit filled with people either over or under committed to working out. Guaranteed, you will always see at least one of each of the following: an older man wearing a black t-shirt with a 4-inch cross necklace, a woman trying out all the weight machines with her street clothes and purse, a woman wearing a gym corset, and a man with a neck the size of corset girl’s waist. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m intimidated, but hanging on “the gym floor” zones me out in the same way the mall does-I forget to eat, don’t remember what I’ve been doing, and have to come down from it all by eating a pound of mini Swedish fish. Plus, I’ve basically arrived at the stage of fitness where I can’t be bothered to think even a little bit about what I have to do once I make it to the gym. Gym membership fees should actually cover things like helping you decide how many minutes you should do on this machine, how to appear tough but not overdo it, how to look as if you are not eavesdropping, etc. They don’t. You should definitely talk to your gym about this. But they do have group fitness classes. And this is basically the only reason to go to the gym. The secret is that the instructors pretty much do the work for you, ANY level of participation is acceptable, and if you choose the right one, you can get a sweet endorphin rush, and only pee yourself a little.

I know people who have been fit their whole life think the only thing chubbers need to do is just get to the gym. By the way, been working out hard for a year and have actually gained weight, so I suspect this theory definitely has some flaws. However, I am considerably stronger and can absolutely CRUSH someone in a pantomime fight, if it includes good music. The key (to working out regularly), actually, is a killer instructor and … also becoming unreasonably dedicated to them. My sister took me to her class (insiders just call it “the” class) and to get me pumped she told me the instructor “could be a cult leader.” Yes please! Admit it, pretty much anyone who has made a difference in your life is mostly a cult leader. The only difference is they have a more acceptable end goal for you (which of course you think is your idea) than poisoned Jello.

I’m in pretty deep. I’ve been with my cult leader for a year now. She doesn’t know it, but I celebrated our meet-a-versary yesterday. It is easy to tell I’m in the fold because I actually get a lump in my throat sometimes when the opening song comes on. I refer to her as MY GIRL ____ as if we were, seriously, eighth grade besties. My husband knows her first name, though he has never been to the gym. When she talks to me, I get flushed and I stutter. I frequently ask questions I know the answer to, just so I can check in with her. I regularly respond voluntarily when she does call and respond. Seriously, I don’t even know the person I become in this class. I would be creeped by myself, but -1. Going to work out is healthy, no matter what your reasons and 2. Everyone seems to be on the same page about her. If you even mention her name with a reg you basically end up holding hands and being like A- MAZE RIGHT? She told me there was an athlete inside me who wants to come out and punch the air really really hard as if someone is there. Right? Totally sold. Sometimes I see the athlete, sometimes I mistake her for the girl next to me who is around my weight loss goal and wears the same color shirt. But. But… I went out of town for 3 weeks, and when I came back there was an empty space waiting for me where I usually stand. And it was exactly the right size. And someone, pretty sure you know who, seemed a little bit more enthusiastic than usual. Coincidence that she was also wearing her “FRIYAY” shirt? I think not, folks, I think not.

No Elsa, I’m the One That’s Winning

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No Elsa, I’m the One That’s Winning

I think I can safely speak for the world when I say you and Anna have had their day, and that day is OVER. It was all fun and games, love between sisters etc., and then everyone got to truly understand what it means to play marketing hardball and make a bazillion dollars cold cash off a bunch of sucker parents. I was one of them, but now it is time for you, girl, to go down. I am D-O-N-E, Elsa, with your unrealistic and unattainable lifestyle and your hard-to-hit-the-notes song. I’m walking away from your Lord of the Rings rip-off named town (something-dale) and I’m taking my 4 year-old with me. You may have been part of the most profitable movie of all time but I’m still winning at Frozen resistance. This is why:

  1. I do not have to second-hand watch your movie anymore.

Lucky for me, my son stuffed a bunch of credit cards into the disc drive of our computer, so Frozen has been out of the game for a while. We can’t watch any other DVD, but it’s WORTH IT.

  1. My daughter now thinks that you are sort of lazy.

When my daughter wanted to be you in every way, she would use you as an excuse to not do pretty much everything I told her. It wouldn’t have been a problem if you could have done me a solid and just wore a coat once in freezing weather, or brushed your teeth on screen, or brought your dish to the sink after you ate, or wore some sensible pants under your dress, or wore non-royalty-style pajamas. But no. Instead, this escalated until I had to break it to my daughter that you were not real and she probably wouldn’t have a superpower to freeze things when she grew up. What really broke the camel’s back, though, was when she refused to put on snowpants and my mom said, “Elsa’s an idiot!”. She took it upon herself to inform my daughter that when you are a queen you don’t do anything for ANYBODY EVER. You don’t clean up, you don’t wash dishes, nothing. You are just the most selfish person ever. This made an impression on my daughter because she asked about it a lot afterwards. Contrary to her daily interactions with her brother, she cares about fairness in theory a lot.

  1. Minus the Frozen DVD, I have successfully resisted all other Frozen purchases.

I guess you could say this is my superpower. Because ever single place that we go to for running errands has something to buy that has to do with Frozen. Why is there a braided wig in the pillow section of Bed Bath and Beyond? This marketing machine is ruthless. The only place I haven’t witnessed Frozen merch is Whole Foods, but I’m pretty sure they are coming out with an Elsa supplement soon that stays cold all the time and contains yet another nutrient you had no idea you were deficient in.

At this point, I know you are feeling pretty humbled, Elsa. Not many have risen against you, but they will. For now, here’s one motha who ain’t yo friend no more.